


supernova

by kinpika



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Awks when ur in space and u wanna go all the way, First Time, Hopefully no one turns the gravity off, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, no one actually turns the gravity off but the temperature control isn't working, whoops.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 06:08:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7423006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinpika/pseuds/kinpika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shiro holds him, tender and close. This was everything he'd wanted, and more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	supernova

Shiro had been content simply to watch. Maybe offer the odd helpful comment, something in the way of posture, how to hold the training swords, for Keith to not kick his foot out in such a way. Whilst the purpose of the session was to improve general combat, especially for the likes of Pidge and Hunk who tended to prefer staying out of direct lines of fire, Shiro should not have been surprised that Keith was getting into it slightly more than usual. It was definitely his own fault, at that. He was the one who had asked Keith to assist them, offering training, just the two of them, later.

Unable to hold his wince back, as Keith’s one-on-one spar went south, he looked over at Allura. Did he call it? They hadn’t been agreeing on _something_ at the moment, slightly more than usual. She raised her brows, and flipped one hand towards the ceiling, in a sort of noncommittal shrug. Pursing his lips, Shiro only moved closer to the ring, ready to throw the towel in. If he let them work out their stress, they would work better later. Surely. It had worked in the garrison for several people that Shiro had known personally — settling disagreements somewhere considerably safer.

But those people didn’t have to function giant robots in space later.

“Alright, stop.” There was no need to shout, never really had been, as Keith stilled, and Lance fell backwards.

“Thank _god_ ,” he sighed, and Shiro couldn’t help the smile as he watched Lance completely flop back, spreading out on the floor. “Dammit, Keith, you don’t have to _kill_ me, you know?!”

Keith tilts his head to the side, eyebrows furrowed into a tiny ‘v’. The effect was devastating. “I wasn’t trying to ‘kill’ you.”

“It’s a figure of speech,” Pidge offers, but it still goes over Keith’s head, something he doesn’t quite understand either.

Whilst the confusion doesn’t leave his face, Keith takes the offered water bottle, and sits idly by as Hunk tries to explain valiantly what it all meant about not ‘killing’ Lance. Although apparently Hunk was quite insistent that Keith was free to flatten him anytime soon. Laying a hand on Hunk’s shoulder, Shiro took that as his turn to really step in this time. 

“Yeah, don’t fry his tiny brain!” Lance shouts, still stuck to the floor, fanning his shirt against his chest. An attempt to cool down. 

Shiro doesn’t need to look as he presses his hand to Keith’s shoulder, holding him firm. “Let’s call it for the day, yeah? Take some time to… cool off.”

Maybe that was enough of a cue for everyone to clear out and find something else to do. Pidge was the first to leave, Allura following close behind. Leaving Lance to be dragged off by Hunk, who continued to yell random, obscure references that just left permanent marks on Keith’s face that looked vaguely like annoyance. Shiro didn’t comment, simply waited for the door to slide shut behind the last of those wandering out, before turning back to Keith. 

Chewing on the inside of his mouth, he wasn’t quite sure where to start. Simply opted to pluck the tie from Keith’s hands, and pull back his hair, off his nape. Keith hummed, and Shiro let his hand rest there, thumb running over the slight bump, and up again. “You seemed pretty agitated today,” he finally said, unsure where to go. “Did you want to talk about it?”

Keith rolled his shoulders, Shiro’s hand falling down his back. Resting at the base of his spine, where his shirt would bunch up sometimes. No jacket today, not until they got the system up and running again. Shiro hoped that Pidge would go work on that immediately, but didn’t regret dragging them into an impromptu training session. It would be worth it, later. 

“Keith,” he presses, and leans around him just enough to catch his eye. “ _Talk_ to me.”

A mumble, that’s unintelligible for the most part. Heaving an arm over his shoulders, Shiro draws Keith closer, until there’s barely a centimetre between their noses. Keith lays a hand against Shiro’s chest, nails just barely digging into the fabric of his shirt, before he raises his eyes. “I don’t want to spar… today.” The last word was added on quickly, as if to clarify. 

Quirking a brow, Shiro couldn’t hide his surprise fast enough. He had thought that Keith had only joined in because of the prospect of a private spar later. Had he read him wrong? Shiro was never usually wrong about Keith, which generally made things easier, but this was new. Keith was rarely ever so _forward_. Thinking it over, quickly, reaching several conclusions, sorting through, Shiro made a small ‘ah’, and his prosthetic fingers flexed on instinct around Keith — that made more sense.

It didn’t settle his gut, however, over the sheer prospect. They had been _trying_ , albeit with little success. And considering they were still well out of range of Earth, any searches that were remarkably safe and consisted of human anatomy were few and far between. Only on their last stop past Earth, which had resulted in a broken wing on the castle and complaints of poor driving, Shiro had the foresight to pick up a few private things, stashed in the bottom of his bag. 

They had said there wasn’t going to be much more time left up in space, before they had complete reason to return home. Shiro had _hoped_ , slightly, that Keith would listen and be patient. Not to say he wasn’t interested, of course. He had tried to make that abundantly clear to Keith. 

Just being in space with their friends and co-pilots in such close quarters didn’t offer privacy. 

“Now?” he asked, as if to verify, despite knowing the answer. Keith had been fighting rather intensely, and Shiro was hoping the adrenaline would’ve worn off by then.

“We don’t have to.”

A smile twisted on his face, and Shiro couldn’t help it. “I’m supposed to be the one to say that.” 

Frowning, Keith tilts his head just so, their noses finally brushing. Shiro felt his breath fanning along his lips, unable to stop himself from licking them in response. Keith followed the action closely, and a dozen different warning noises went off in his head over that. Mostly, over how the door wasn’t locked, and it was just begging for someone to walk in on them. There was only at least two people Shiro was sure who would react by simply walking out again. The rest, he had considered how to explain anything to. Stayed up very late one night thinking how to explain everything.

“Help me clean up first, and then we’ll go to my room.”

It was oddly adorable, in some aspect, that Keith was rushing, to put the training weapons away, foot tapping over storage units impatiently enough to send them back down before they rose a good couple of inches. Shiro wasn’t quite sure what that said about him, but he couldn’t deny it was definitely an ego booster of some sort. Didn’t stop the building of nerves in him, as he got, every time. An odd sensation, as it had been so long, _so long_ , since he had been this way around someone. 

“That was fast,” he comments, when Keith is standing by the door. It slides open when Shiro approaches, and the lights begin to cut out behind them. 

Keith lets his face twist into a response, and Shiro doesn’t stop the chuckle that leaves him. They round several corners, Keith twitching at any slight noise. Shiro had hoped that was Pidge attempting to get the temperature back online. Where his prosthetic met skin, it was starting to burn, as if all the technology in him relied on the castle being active. An oddly dark thought, and Shiro rubbed at the junction. 

Fingers join his, cool, always cool, and Shiro sighs at the relief. Focusing, probably a little too hard, Keith wrapped one hand firmly around that spot, and held tight. So good, Shiro leaned down enough to bump their noses once more, not distracting Keith from his apparent task. With a press of lips, Shiro mumbles a “thank you”, and pulls back. Keith follows the action, his fingers loosening as he does so, and Shiro laughs. Leans down once more, meeting Keith. Unable to stop himself from doing so. Wraps his arms firmly around Keith, sliding his right hand under Keith’s shirt to meet that cool skin. 

Making a noise in the back of his throat, Shiro wills himself to keep the kisses light. They were close to his room, not three doors away, but he smothered Keith, tilting him back. Keith didn’t seem to mind, eyes having slid shut, arms slung over Shiro’s shoulders. So odd to see him at such ease, and Shiro pulled from his lips, trailing over his cheeks, his nose. Pressing softly to the back of his eyelids, lingering at his temples. “Come on,” he murmurs, and struggles to detangle himself from Keith. It would only be for a few minutes, he tells himself. 

One day, he would just carry Keith there. But Keith seems to understand, hands sliding down Shiro’s arms, definitely reluctant, until his fingers thread through Shiro’s metal ones, and he holds firm. Reluctance seems to dissipate, and Shiro strides forward. Three doors down, where his room barely lights up, castle on low energy. Temperature gauge still not functioning, and Shiro can feel the tiny beads of sweat at the base of his neck finally begin to roll down his back. Keith hasn’t let go of his hand, not yet, and Shiro is always annoyed at the loss of sensation, wishes he could swap hands. Feel Keith under his right hand, like he should be able to.

“Come here,” he says, voice not shaking. But he is, he can feel it through every fibre of his body, the little shakes. If Keith noticed, he didn’t mention it, only stood up on his toes to press his lips firmly to Shiro’s cheek.

Shiro feels like it was supposed to be his place to be the one to comfort, but he appreciates the touch (loves it, even, though that is not a light topic of conversation to bring up). Turns, so Keith’s lips drag to meet his own, and those shakes are no longer just a little wracking of nerves, but full blown solar, lighting every inch of him on fire. Keith doesn’t realise it, probably, just the effect he has. If he did, he might just put it down to a mutual friend, but Shiro doesn’t believe it was just that.

Keith kisses and kisses, and if Shiro were anyone else, he might’ve quipped that Keith gets _this_ , but not sarcasm on a good day. But he doesn’t, as he presses Keith back, breaking for air, only to continue kissing some other piece of skin, to hold Keith in his arms tighter. They shouldn’t do this, a lingering thought in the back of Shiro’s mind. Compromises the mission. Compromises the team. But Shiro had several years worth of compromises locked up, as he holds Keith in his arms. Later, he might berate himself over letting himself get so overwhelmed, again and again, for him. About him. 

Later, in another life. Shiro had waited too many just to be able to press his hand against the small of Keith’s back again, once more, skin so oddly cool, so soothing, and swallowing the noise Keith makes so readily.

More, the only word at the forefront of his mind. Control is a thing he should have, especially in such a delicate situation, but Keith raises his arms as Shiro pulls off his shirt, only to press Shiro’s own up under his arms. Palms press against Shiro’s front, fingers splay, and they’re deadlocked. Where to next? Shiro normally had a plan, not just some half-cocked burst of emotion brought on by a look. A look that managed to knock over everything he knew, like it always had. If only Keith knew what power he had over Shiro — he’d be unstoppable then.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You never do.”

“But last time—”

“ _Shiro_.” Says his name so steadily, like he was in total control, maybe for the first time. “Please… with your permission.”

“You always have my _permission_ ,” he can’t keep the tease out of his voice, and Keith’s ears turn a delightful shade of red.

Keith bites his lip, an “I want you inside me.” Shiro can feel his eyes roll to the back of his head at just how honestly he says it. Keith should learn what a filter is, Shiro is certain, because it was one of those moments where he needed one.

“The moment I hurt you—”

“—You will be the first to know.”

That wouldn’t be enough, as Shiro and Keith both knew that Keith wouldn’t say a word. Maybe that said too much about him, how much he was willing to put aside. Shiro didn’t linger on the thought, just pulled his shirt the rest of the way off, and pulled Keith close once more, chest to chest. Keith was always running a few degrees cooler, no matter how much he exerted himself. It was always such a shock to his own body, with Keith so close. And with the castle’s systems acting up the way they were, Shiro definitely appreciated the proximity, the thin fingers that trail over his face. He kisses the tip of each finger as they pass over his lips, and they’re back. 

No more hesitation, he tells himself. Always worrying, about going too far, losing control. Hurting Keith. He always stopped at the last minute, laid back, and didn’t go any further. Maybe Keith thought he didn’t want him? Was he as insecure as Shiro was? Impossible. Keith was so much stronger than anyone gave him credit for, and Shiro was sure he would not waver over something like this. 

Stop! He tells himself, as his hesitation gave his hands pause, and Keith looks over him. “You don’t want to.” 

“I do. I want you, Keith. More than you might ever understand.”

Keith’s mouth twists into a smile, the first one for the day. “Might surprise you… just how long I’ve been waiting for you.”

Shiro snorts, unable to stop his cheeks from warming. “Is this a competition now?”

“No, not with you.”

It’s so utterly cheesy and terrible, but it cements it more than Shiro’s own willpower ever could. Slipping his hands into the back of Keith’s jeans, fingers teasing along the band of his underwear, Shiro smiles easy. “For the record, since the day they pulled you out of that crash.”

He doesn’t let him respond, kissing away the gasp that Keith nearly gets out. No more distractions. Digging nails into the material of his briefs, Shiro pulls Keith’s hips flush against his own, a light groan leaving him. Shiro himself was only at half mast, but Keith was well and truly gone, firm against the zipper of his jeans. Any other time, he would’ve commented.

“Boots.”

A grunt, from one of them or both, Shiro wasn’t sure. They only part long enough for Keith to hop around on one foot, intent to get his shoes off. Shiro wasn’t nearly as steady, and fell back on the bed, hooking thumbs in the belt loops of his own pants, pulling them down. Maybe it was too fast. He’d laugh about it later, especially when Keith makes a rather irritated noise at his zipper. 

No, he doesn’t wait till later. Shiro laughs, when Keith finally clambers over him, settling firmly over his stomach, still in his briefs. There is nothing in his eyes except determination, and despite the slight damp spot forming at the front, Keith seemed not at all deterred by Shiro, or his worries. Nothing to fear, not when it came to Keith, Shiro tells himself, and raises himself up on his elbows. Keith slides down, settling on Shiro’s hips, and he can’t help the slight noise at that. 

Keith shifts, and Shiro can’t think if it was on purpose or not, because it’s a lot more direct than before, and it has him go crosseyed. Grunting, Shiro wraps his arm around Keith, holding him firm, as he pulls himself further onto the bed. There wasn’t much in the way of room, but he didn’t want to run the risk of giving himself a concussion by hitting the wall behind him, and Keith was still very insistent about doing that thing with his hips. That was a new thing. He hadn’t done that before.

Shiro needed to get Keith off him. Now, immediately, five minutes ago. No higher brainpower, as everything focuses on where Keith is pressing against him, fingers splayed along his belly, dipping lower. Nails teasing along the band of his briefs like he had done to Keith before. Where this came from, Shiro was not sure if he would ever be able to determine, but he flips them, before he embarrasses himself. Pushing up on his knees, keeping his lower body well away from Keith’s hips, Shiro breathes deeply, trying to maintain control, blood in his brain. No more worries.

Displeasure colours Keith’s face, and Shiro doesn’t want that. No, wrong reasons, he thinks, unable to say it. Bites his tongue on admitting he didn’t want to come too early, ruin it. Again. Have Keith tell him it was fine when he should be older, more ‘experienced’. That thought sounded like it was in Lance’s voice, and had anyone else been under him, that may have sufficiently ruined anything for the rest of the evening. 

“I don’t know what to do,” he admits, when he settles back. Light on Keith’s stomach, and his fingers tentatively rub against the front of his briefs.

“I don’t either.” Keith doesn’t sound the least bit convincing, but the displeasure is replaced by a smile, that’s just there, at the corners of his mouth. “Can I touch you?”

“I think I might… be early if you did that. Again.” Colour burns him, all the way down to his chest, as he speaks. Keith flushes too, maybe realising just what hold he had on Shiro, something that almost made him feel more embarrassed. “Will you let me touch you, this time?”

Keith never lets him. Only once or twice, he had been allowed. At least, Keith had assured it was nothing personal (of course, he had then expressed how he much prefers seeing Shiro receiving, and that had resulted in thorough embarrassment for the both of them). But this time, it might have been different. Shiro waits for the nod, just barely a jut of the muscles in his neck, before he presses their lips together. Too quick for anything, only to pass off as thanks. Thank you for trusting me, he hoped Keith understood. 

Shiro feels the swell of Keith’s lungs under his lips, as he slides down. This he has done before. Followed each line along this body, fingers wrapping around his side, raising him just so. Adjusts himself, to kneel between Keith’s thighs. Moves back as he goes lower, fingers bumping over ribs, tongue laving at Keith’s navel. He wanted to drag this out, but the temperature was rising, and Shiro could see sparks behind his eyelids when he follows the curve of bone, from Keith’s hips and south. This was special, he told himself. Stop being a romantic, he also told himself. 

Of course Keith had not told him just how strung up he was, when Shiro peels back his briefs. Sticky, and Keith whines under his breath at the freedom. At least, Shiro tells himself it was from that. Adjusts Keith’s legs enough to peel the briefs off entirely, letting them fall to the floor beside his bed. Rests his hands on Keith’s thighs, feeling the muscles jump under his left hand, and he squeezes back. All the hairs on his body stand on end, as Keith lets out a breathy sort of sound, as Shiro slides his hands to the back of his knees. Close. Shiro recognised that sound enough to know that he was close. 

His own cock was straining now, and Shiro doesn’t stop to palm himself. Tries not to, at least, as he is slow to press his own hand against Keith’s. Only his left hand, as his right stays firmly in place, massaging the skin under Keith’s knee, gently. The first touch draws a happy sigh from Keith, and Shiro would remember to remind him of that any other time he said for Shiro not to touch him. A brush of fingers, against the head of Keith’s cock, thumb catching precome, smoothing it down. Makes his touch easier, and Shiro is probably far more careful than he should have been. 

That didn’t matter, when he forms a fist, a shot of confidence running through him, as Keith reaches down. Hand over his own, encouraging him. Keith really didn’t know what he was doing to Shiro, with a smile on his face. At least the rising heat seemed to finally be getting to him, with the way the ends of his hair began to curl, brushing up against his cheeks. From where he was, Shiro took a moment to watch the rise and fall of Keith’s chest, the stutter it gave when his thumb ran along the slit of his cock. How colour seemed to run even to the end of his toes, and how he was no longer cool under his touch. Shifting himself, trying to not just hump blindly against the sheets, Shiro propped himself up, onto his knees. Removed his hand only for a moment.

Too long, in Keith’s books, probably. But Shiro leaned over him, to the bag that sat inconspicuously by the head of his bed. Fished through with his right hand, until he brushed against the plastic bag at the bottom. If they were doing this, Shiro was going to do this right.

Tipping out the contents beside Keith, Shiro appreciates how Keith doesn’t ask questions. Not when Shiro tips a generous amount of lube over his fingers. Slicker, now, and he forms a fist around Keith’s cock once more, working his way up and down. That seemed to be what he was looking for, judging by the way he bucked up into Shiro’s hand. Admittedly, it didn’t take Keith long. A few solid pumps, with Shiro running his thumb along the underside of Keith’s cock, only twisting his hand once or twice in the way he preferred himself. 

But he has to brace him, right hand holding his hips down as he comes. Keith is not loud, but the breathy little noises that leave him reminds Shiro that he would not take as long either. His hand is a mess, and Keith doesn’t stop shaking, mumbling something that Shiro doesn’t understand. But that’s fine, as he lowers his fingers. It was awkward, doing this with his left hand, even if he had practiced enough to consider himself fairly ambidextrous. No matter how many times Keith told him that using his right hand was okay, he wouldn’t allow himself to. That was oddly terrifying to consider, a territory he wasn’t comfortable himself enough with. There was still so much about the technology of his right arm he didn’t know, and he didn’t want to expose Keith, of all people, to anything. 

Which reminded himself to open one of the condoms, slipping it over his fingers. As he’s pouring over more lube, he finally speaks up. “Keith, I’m going to put a finger in.” Not that eloquent. Shiro figured it wouldn’t matter, in a situation like this. 

He thinks he hears a ‘thank god’, and laughs to himself. It takes him a moment, to prepare himself, when he knows it should be Keith he should be worried about. What was it he told himself? Not to worry. Well, he thinks, that didn’t last all that long. 

It’s the first slip of the finger which is the hardest. Keith tenses, immediately, at the intrusion. Ring of muscles go tight around his finger, and Shiro looks up. About to say something, not quite sure what he should say other than ‘relax’, but Keith is pressing the heel of his palm against his eye, face screwed tight. Pain. Shiro should’ve known, and he pulls his finger out, shifting to hover over Keith. “I told you to say something,” he chides, only because he can.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not _fine_. Keith, you’re in _pain_. Let’s do this another time—”

“ _No!_ Please… Shiro, I want this. I want you.”

“But…” A pause, as he watches Keith let his hand fall to the side. “Fine. It’s my call. If you look like you’re in pain again, we’re not doing this.”

To say Keith was not happy with that was an understatement, but he pulls Shiro in for a kiss. “Fine,” he repeats, when they part. 

Settling back between Keith’s legs, minus his briefs this time, if only because of Keith’s insistent hands, and comments that he definitely wouldn’t be needing them. From the way he hunched over, Shiro could feel his cock pressing hard against his belly, and told himself to wait. If he needed to finish himself, he would. 

Finger circling Keith’s hole once more, Shiro watched his face closely, as he pushed in once more. There might’ve been a twitch on Keith’s face, or it might’ve been a trick of the light. They had only ever gone as far as two fingers, if only because Keith had come hard enough once, and the most recent time Shiro had tried to push for three. Likely, Keith had not meant to make a noise, but he had genuinely sounded like he was in pain, and Shiro hadn’t touched him since.

Shiro didn’t want a repeat of that, and as he slowly worked the one finger in and out, curling just enough to drag against Keith, he waited for any sign of discomfort. Any more reason to suggest it was too early. “I’m going to add another,” he warns. Slowly, slides a finger in, alongside his other. Stretches Keith a little more, enough for a slightly more obvious twitch. Not pain this time, not when Shiro pushes in and out, same pattern as he had with the first finger. Experimentally, he scissors his fingers, and Keith practically hums underneath him.

His cock even twitches, no longer simply laying against his thigh, spent. Shiro pushes Keith’s leg up a little higher with his right hand, and continues a lazy pattern. “Add a third,” Keith says, between breaths. That’s enough to still Shiro, and he goes to argue. Stops himself when he catches how Keith just looks up at the ceiling, twitching in time to each push of fingers, and its not pain anymore. Little sighs leave Keith, and Shiro can feel him _move_ under his hand, having slipped forward to his hips. Moving in time to his fingers, the in out, in out. Biting the inside of his cheek, Shiro curls his fingers once more, before a third joins.

Keith’s breath hitches, and Shiro can just barely hear the “faster” that leaves him. _That_ does something, sends a shock through Shiro, and he groans. Flexes his fingers, and Keith practically squirms. No more absolute discomfort, and later, Shiro would consider whether or not Keith had been trying on himself. Much later, but not right now, when Keith has pushed himself up, fingers firmly locking around Shiro’s wrist, pushing him in harder, deeper. 

“Are you ready?” 

A simple nod, and Keith doesn’t let him go, until Shiro is fumbling around for another condom, the bottle of lube. Removes his fingers finally, as Keith pulls the things from him, casually tearing the foil open, and Shiro definitely appreciated how blasé Keith was being about it all. Especially when he palmed himself, and Keith was rolling the condom down, a firm squeeze to the base of Shiro’s cock when he was done. At least one of them wasn’t entirely bothered about this. He was, and couldn’t stop the embarrassment burn his cheeks when a moan caught in his throat. Shiro was sure he was going to go crosseyed if Keith didn’t move his hand, and he was close, so close, he wouldn’t last long at all. 

Keith must’ve recognised the signs, because there’s a look in his eye that Shiro can’t quite place emotion to, and he lets go. Lets himself flop back on the bed, fingers already curling into the sheets as Shiro shuffles forward, cock bobbing between his thighs. Slides his hands down Keith’s thighs, raising him slightly. Wait. “Pass me that pillow. Raise your hips.” Better, much better. Guides himself to Keith’s entrance, and pauses. 

They had never made it this far before. Keith gives a nod, encouraging _Shiro_ , when he was the one about to be penetrated. Shiro was certain he would get over it, one day, and slowly he eases in. Tight, all at once, as Keith tenses, and Shiro knew it. “Keep going,” Keith hums out, and he’s shaking around Shiro. “Please, Shiro…”

Call it, a voice in the back of his head says. Except Keith cracks an eye open, and Shiro can feel his belly drop. “ _Please_ , Shiro…” 

“Okay.” Deep breathes, and he shifts forward once more. “Okay.” A little more, a little further, and Keith was so hot around him, so tight, Shiro was sure he might turn to liquid, and that would’ve been fine.

Keith is slow, tender, as he kicks his legs up, ankles locking around Shiro’s back. Slow and strong, as he digs his heels in, forcing Shiro forward. Further. No higher brain power, as Shiro sinks in too far, all at once, and they both moan then. Stilling, Shiro breathes deeply through his nose, trying to get some semblance of thought in his mind other than _Keith Keith Keith._ That might’ve been too much to ask. “Are you,” he pauses, licks his lips. Words. “Okay?” 

“ _Yes._ ” Keith should not have been so honest, earnest, and his knuckles have turned white, Shiro wouldn’t be surprised if he tears the sheets altogether as he tugs. 

“No pain?”

“No pain.”

Good. He can’t say it, throat so dry and he’s twitching. Every part of him trying not to zero in on the one spot, where he and Keith joined. Blinks, tells himself to hold Keith by the hips. Experimentally pulls out, then slides back in. Slow, painfully slow, but he shakes all the way through. A part of him says they should’ve done this sooner, and Shiro can’t help but agree with that part. “I’m going to move faster.”

And he does, thumbs digging into Keith’s hips as he raises him, enough to slide his own back and forth. Faster, and Keith is sighing his name, like it’s the only word he knows. That’s preferable to Shiro, as he snaps forward. Losing himself in the moment, he misses how Keith’s hand slides over his prosthetic one, holding the metal. Keeping himself steady, as he begins to push back on Shiro, meeting him halfway.

Shiro doesn’t mean to go harder, wanting to keep this moment going, but he was inexperienced, and Keith was shaking around him. Grunts, and snaps forward, far too excited, finally noticing Keith’s hand. Threads their fingers together, and Shiro raises Keith’s towards his lips, kissing each knuckle. Attempting to, admittedly, as he moans into the grasp, holding just as tight as his belly curls.

Ah.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry!”

Keith doesn’t let go of his hand, doesn’t let Shiro let go, and despite how his own cock twitched against his belly, he’s smiling. “It’s fine.”

“I didn’t mean to—” Shiro didn’t even want to say it, and he’s slow to pull out, embarrassment overriding his pleasure. He didn’t mean to. He was just too caught up in the moment.

“Shiro… thank you.”

One day, Shiro would work out how Keith knew exactly what to say to him, to make him feel better. But as he crawls up, tucked against Keith’s side, he didn’t mind right now. “I’m sorry,” he says once more, because he meant it. Splays his fingers on Keith’s belly, right hand, too hot.

Keith kisses him, slow and lazy. Wraps thin fingers around his wrist, and guides his hand down. His right hand. Shiro smiles, as his right hand tentatively runs from base to tip, and Keith is moaning against him, writhing. He’d make it up to him another time.

**Author's Note:**

> my tags always sound less srs than i am but tadaaaa
> 
> also, obv, practice safe sex. no matter if ur in space. probably dont trust space stuff, but safe sex! then go wild.
> 
> again, also vague s/o to myself to kick my ass into gear for my keith fic about his origins bc he is totally galra so u kno
> 
> feel free to send me prompts for fics on tumblr (@[hotlineaisui](www.hotlineaisui.tumblr.com)) i would love some casual prompts (esp for sheith)


End file.
